In the Windy Skies
by Hesperusa
Summary: When a mysterious boy appears at their window, the Darling children see an escape from their unhappy home. Little do they realize the dangers of the open sky.
1. Chapter 1

**A short note on this story: the setting is a steampunk universe (think Disney's "Treasure Planet") and I try to relay that by mentioning steampunk-y gadgets and whatnot, but if it's not coming through, or if you have a better way for me to set up such a setting, please let me know! Also, I apologize for the first couple chapters – you will notice they stick pretty closely to the original story. I promise things will take a much different turn later on…**

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Chapter 1

The sky sparkled as the solar-sails caught the light of the setting sun. The great sails of two arriving ships were almost blinding to look upon, while the smaller sails of the young wind-surfers glimmered as they flitted around the cove. They would be called in soon, their mothers would want them home before the light faded and their sails went dark. The large ships, now pulling up to the docks, would wait out the night.

As the sun went down, the sky went dark and the city lit up.

Wendy sat on the window seat, looking out as she coiled her hair around strips of rag. She and her brothers would be sent to bed soon; they had been ushered into the kitchen for an early dinner, then swept away again before the adult's party had begun. Wendy had almost asked to be allowed to stay up – all her friends were allowed to enjoy the first hour or so of their parents' parties – but her mother had been so distracted by the preparations, and when her father arrived home from the bank he had been so angry, that she thought better of it.

"Hurry up and turn off the light, Wendy!" little Michael called from his bed, "Mother said we have to go to sleep!"

"It's not that bright, you can sleep when it's on," John said from the floor where he was working on one of his clockwork toys which had broken, "I need the light for a while longer yet."

"But Mother _said_ –"

"I don't care! I'm almost done!" John retorted petulantly. Michael screwed up his face, and Wendy knew if he was not diverted he would set to howling.

"Michael!" she said as she hurried to him, hoping to stave off his fury, "Would you like me to tell you a story while we wait for John to finish?"

Michael seemed to wrestle with the decision for a moment before giving a grudging nod.

"Alright, let's see here…" Wendy began, scouring her mind for a plot as she wrapped her arms around her youngest brother, "Have I told you the one about the ship and the windsurfer?"

"No," he answered as he snuggled closer to her.

"Well," Wendy began slowly, "Once there was a ship who was the fastest, largest, most handsome ship in the sky. He traveled all over the world, seeing many strange and exotic sights. But one day, as he pulled into dock, he met a little windsurfer –"

"Is this a love story?" John asked, making a face at the gears he held in his hands.

"Ewwww," Michael added on for good measure.

"It's…it's just a story," Wendy protested, backtracking quickly, "You see, the ship and the windsurfer didn't like each other at all. He thought she was tiny and useless, she had never been anywhere or done anything… And in return she thought he was mean, and too proud of himself that he did not notice anyone else existed."

"Like Father and Mother," John said quietly, placing his toy down.

"Hurry and get ready for bed, John, Nana will be in soon," Wendy admonished him, hoping Michael hadn't heard. The little boy's eyes were drooping, but his arms still maintained a strong grip around her waist.

"What happened to them?" Michael asked sleepily.

"Well… They decided to have a contest –" Wendy began again.

"They should fight!" Michael broke in, much louder than he had been speaking a moment before. Wendy could only look at him in shock.

"What –?"

"And the little windsurfer should win, and beat the other one black and blue," Michael declared, detaching himself and sitting up with all his pudgy four-year-old authority.

"Michael Nicholas Darling that is quite enough!" Wendy managed to stammer, "How could you make up such a horrid story? John, I hope you've cleaned up your things, it is time for us all to be in bed!"

John grumbled as he finished putting away his things, and Michael pouted as Wendy left his bed, but they both crawled beneath their covers and were softly snoring by the time Nana came in. She scratched at the door and Wendy let her in, hoping the mechanisms on her voice-box would not wake the boys.

"I see two have managed to make it to their cribs, the third ought to be going there soon," Nana said, and wuffled quietly as she fixed Wendy with a stern look.

"I was only waiting up for you to say good-night," Wendy responded innocently, clasping her hands behind her back. Nana shook herself.

"A sweet thought child, but it doesn't matter. Your father wishes to see you after this party's over. Go put on your shawl and wait in that chair. Take a little rest but don't be groggy and confused when I come for you later."

"Why does Father want to see me?" Wendy asked, trying to think of the last time her father had taken particular notice of any of his children. Nana bared her teeth.

"He'll forget it, likely as not with how he's been drinking tonight… Don't mind me child, I'm sure I don't know. Just make sure you do as I said, and if he doesn't want to speak with you after all, I'll come tuck you in again."

Nana trotted out the door as Wendy wrapped herself in her shawl and curled up on the large armchair. There was still the tiniest flicker of a flame in the glass lamp, and Wendy turned the knob up ever so slightly, hoping it would keep her awake until her father sent for her. This effort was in vain, for within minutes her head lolled to the side and she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke again she felt it was very early in the morning, almost early enough to still be last night. There was a sound from downstairs, and after a moment she realized that sound had been disturbing her dreams before she awoke. It was her father yelling.

She slid out of the chair, and as she made her way to the door she heard her brothers move. Looking over her shoulder, she saw both John and Michael crawling out of their beds. Father had woken them too.

All three children crept to the nursery door and cracked it open. The sound still distant, they crept to the balcony. Looking down the stairs to the first landing, they could see Nana, lying with her head on her paws, but alert and tense despite it all. She was facing down the stairway, standing guard. Over the noise she did not hear the children open the nursery door, and they did not have to attempt to sneak any closer because now they could see their parents as well as hear them perfectly.

"…as though we were but bugs beneath their feet!" Father was yelling, his voice growing hoarse, "And look at them, the bloody bastards, where do they think they get those fucking airs? I'll tell you, his father was nothing more than a fucking butcher, and his father before that! And here they come, lording it over us both, as though he were the fucking Prince of Wales and she a princess!"

"I'm sure they don't mean it like that –" came Mother's soft voice, soon drowned out again by her husband's.

"Of course they mean it, madam! They look at us in this squalor… Dammnit if I'd known what a mess children make of the household I wouldn't have kept any of them!"

"Sir!"

"Don't you 'sir' me, madam, you've seen what's happen since they came along. I can't walk across the fucking parlor without stepping on a train or a teddy or a doll cradle! And have you seen what happens to my clothes should I lay them out on the bed? Fucking crumpled and wrinkled and absolutely spoiled by the time I return! And that bloody dog leaving her hair everywhere, what's to be done about it, madam? Out, the lot of them must go out!"

"Oh dearest, please reconsider," Mother said soothingly, "You're not calm now, I'm sure things will look better in the morning –"

"Have they looked any better in the last twelve years of mornings?" Father demanded, his fury overtaking him. The wine glass in his hand slipped, shattering on the ground and staining Mother's beautiful white dress. Father did not notice, and continued his rampage, "I won't have it, I tell you, I won't bloody have it! My grandfather was apprenticed by the time he was John's age, and my grandmother was running the house for her parents when she was Wendy's age! They must all start earning their keep around here, I am bloody tired of their lazy ways. Play time? Nana tells me they have a play time! Do I get a play time? Most certainly not! And neither shall they! It's a harsh world out there, and they might as well learn that straight away, madam! And if that man ever comes to dinner and treats me in such a way again…"

Wendy pulled her brothers back into the nursery, shutting the door quietly. She had heard enough, as her mother would say. She looked at her brothers, worried at the toll their father's tirade had taken on them. John was stoically trying to fight tears, and Michael was already hiccupping his quietly back.

"Come on, we must all go back to bed," Wendy said, trying to be stern to mask her own feelings.

"I don't think I can go to sleep again," John said quietly.

"Me neither," Michael declared. Wendy looked from one to the other, knowing she could not order them back into their beds, not when she was not feeling tired anymore either.

"Come, both of you, everyone get in my bed and I'll tell a story," she said, picking up Michael. John followed with more obedience than had been his habit of late, and Michael did not protest.

"There once was a girl," Wendy began, "She'd lost her mother when she was very young, and when she'd grown up a bit her father remarried. The woman he married was harsh and cold, with two daughters of her own who were hateful to the girl. The girl's father died, and after that the stepmother and her daughters made the girl do all the chores, and they made her sleep by the fireplace. Because of this, they took to calling her Cinderella."

"Where did you hear this story Wendy?" Michael asked.

"From Mother," Wendy answered, and they were all reminded again of the scene from downstairs. They were quiet, so quiet that when a bang on the window sounded, they all jumped. It was a very loud bang, and a minute later Nana was bursting into the room, barking and running to the window. Wendy ran after her and opened the window, looking out.

Down below she saw a figure, running away with a board tucked under his arm. Nana continued to bark at the boy until he was out of sight, and then began sniffing at something caught in the hinges of the window. Wendy caught the dark fabric, and had just worked it free when the nursery door burst open again. She hid the thing quickly behind her back as she whirled to face her mother.

"Nana what is it, what's happened?" Mother demanded, looking over each of her children.

"There was a noise at the window," Nana answered gruffly, "When I looked out there was a person running down the street."

"That window is two stories high!" Mother exclaimed, "How on earth could someone have gotten up or down?"

Nana could only growl and shake herself. Mother sighed and came and locked the window personally before drawing the curtains.

"Back to bed now, Wendy," she said softly, "John, Michael to your own beds."

Wendy ran to her bed and brought the dark cloth with her so her mother would not see it. Mrs. Darling looked over her children one last time before leaving the room with Nana.

"Wendy?" John hissed from his bed, "Wendy, what did you get from the window?"

Wendy turned the lamp up ever so slightly, knowing they would be in very great trouble if the light was seen from under the door at this hour. She pulled the dark fabric out from under her covers and spread it across the bed. John and Michael again abandoned their own beds to come to hers, touching the fabric and peering at it intensely. It felt coarse to the touch, but the blackness of it swallowed light like velvet, except where sometimes blue streaks of lights skittered across. It was no ordinary fabric.

"I don't believe it," John said slowly, "I swear I don't believe it."

"What don't you believe, John?" Wendy asked, wishing he'd say it already.

"Look here, Wendy, do you know what this looks like?"

"It looks…it looks almost like a solar sail," Wendy said hesitantly. She really didn't know that much about technology, if only John would go ahead and tell her what it was.

"Exactly – but it's not!" John said excitedly and entirely unhelpfully, "This is a lunar sail, or as it's sometimes called, a shadow sail."

"And?"

"'And?!' Well, these things are illegal! Usually used by pirates because they rely on moonlight and you can't see them coming, the way you can solar sails. There are a great many rules governing the visibility of airships, don't you know, because of how horrible it would be if two airships didn't see each other and crashed."

"But if these can only harness moonlight, won't they be useless during the day?" Wendy asked, confused.

"Well yes, but pirates hide out during the day so it doesn't make much difference. And I guess they're forced to rely on pure steam power during the new moon, just as a solar-sail ship must rely on steam power during foggy weather."

"Oh gee," Michael said, his eyes wide, "A pirate, right there outside our window. We could have been killed!"

"Oh Michael!" Wendy exclaimed. She took the sail away from John's excited fingers and folded it carefully before putting it away in a drawer, "Now that is quite enough talk of pirates, it is high past time we were all in bed. Go on now, I'll tuck you in Michael."

The boys grumbled, but they went to their beds, and finally all was quiet in the Darling house.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next morning there was nothing to show of Mr. Darling's rampage, except that Mrs. Darling might have been a bit paler than usual. Mr. Darling had already gone to work by the time the children gathered in the kitchen to eat their breakfast. Nana kept diligent watch, making sure they ate all their butter and toast as Mrs. Darling prepared to go out.

"Now children," Mrs. Darling began, "Make sure you take your walk with Nana and take your naps, and please if you could pick up some of your toys around the house, they seem to have traveled too far from the nursery and I'm sure they're all wishing to be home."

With that, Mrs. Darling gave each of them a kiss and left them in Nana's capable paws.

Her final words stayed with the children long after she had left. They did not acknowledge Mr. Darling's explosion of temper, but they did pay heed to the substance of his fury. Wendy, John, and Michael did not have a cross word with Nana the entire day. They did not even take their play hour, instead spending the time cleaning up the rest of the house. Nana watched them with concern, but did not remark on their behavior.

Wendy was their taskmaster, albeit a kind one, gently pushing her brothers to clean up the messes they had left behind, making sure Michael put his toys in their box rather than shoving them under the bed. She could feel their tension as they worked, knew they were awash in shame and misery at their father's harsh judgment of them. They wanted to do better so he would love them.

Wendy found she did not share their sentiments. As she worked there was no sense of penitence for her messy ways, no shame for the frustration she caused her father. There, barely acknowledged at the beginning, but growing into a dark, fiery thing by dinnertime, was her own rage. When she became aware of it she tried to push it down, tried to talk it away with filial piety and duty and a girl's place. It would not leave, and when they sat to eat, Nana looked at her lack of appetite with a different concern than she beheld the boy's disinterested picking.

Their mother came home only briefly to tuck them in, informing them that she was meeting their father at 27 for dinner, and they would be home long after the children had fallen asleep. She was still meek and pale, and Wendy felt the dark fire in her belly roil. She could not even manage a proper good-bye to her mother, and bit back tears of anger when her mother accepted it without a word.

Sleep came in a dark wave, but it didn't bring a peaceful darkness. It brought a cold breeze that tickled her nose and made her shiver. In her dreams there was a lithe figure and a small, bright light. They rattled and made a great noise. And then someone was crying.

It took a few moments for Wendy to realize the sobs were not a dream and were in fact in her bedroom. She sat up, worried and expecting to see one of her brothers crying. Instead there was a different boy, one who looked closer to her own age, sitting on the ground with a frame and the shadow sail, trying desperately to repair his solar surfer, but without much luck.

So surprised was Wendy to see this stranger that she said the only thing that came to mind; "Boy, why are you crying?"

He looked up, startled out of his crying. He stared a moment, his blue eyes large and bright, before helplessly holding up his items.

"I can't fix it," he answered simply. Wendy slid out of bed and went over to him, holding out her hands for the sail and the board. She waited patiently as the boy shied away, and finally handed them over to her. She looked at them carefully, but at the same time snuck several peeks at the boy. She didn't know many boys other than her brothers; Mrs. Darling had always kept them home, saying she felt better when they were near her. This boy didn't look like Michael or John at all. His hair was not neatly combed, his face not nicely scrubbed, and his cloths looked like bits and scraps sewn haphazardly together. Wendy did not think she had ever encountered such a fascinating creature.

"I think I can sew it so it'll stay on," she said confidently, determined to be friendly even if this strange boy would continue to be shy. She got her sewing box, took her thickest thread and some wax, and began to attach the sail. She hummed to herself, pretending to ignore the boy. He did not seem satisfied with being left by himself, and slowly began to inch closer, looking intently at her work on his solar surfer. When his shoulder was practically touching hers, Wendy spoke.

"What is your name?"

Again startled he jumped back, but then scurried closer.

"I am Peter," he told her with a grin, "Who are you?"

"Wendy Moira Angela Darling," she responded. He looked at her incredulously.

"What, all that at once? But you're only one person."

"It is my name," Wendy retorted, bristling a little, "My mother chose it for me herself!" But she could not think about her mother now. That deep, secret rage from before threatened to rise up, and Wendy looked away from the boy so he would not see the hot, furious tears in her eyes. However, he seemed to notice that something was amiss, because he reached out to her.

"What is it Wendy?"

As his hand touched her shoulder, a violent rattling from a chest of drawers made the both jump.

"Tink!" Peter hissed, leaping to his feet and running to the drawers. A small little light flew out and began shooting about the room with a whirring and clicking sound, accompanied by the tinkle of small bells.

"A…fairy?" Wendy asked, eyes wide as they followed the little light around the room.

"If you like," Peter said with a shrug, "Compass Fairy, she sees me home. Come on now Tink, stop that. Why'd you shut yourself in a drawer if you couldn't get out again?"

"Where is home for you, Peter?" Wendy asked, knowing it would be someplace terribly exciting. Peter gestured vaguely out the window.

"Second star the right, and straight on till morning."

Wendy looked outside, "But there are so many stars!"

Peter smiled at her, "There are, aren't there? Here," he took her hand and pointed with it, "That one. That one leads home."

"Do you live with your family there?" Wendy asked. Peter's face lost his smile and he shrugged despondently.

"It's just me and the lost boys."

"The lost boys?" Wendy asked, having never heard of such a thing, "But what about your parents? Their parents?"

"Got none. None of us have any," Peter answered, the light gone from his face. He looked sideways at Wendy, "We have no mother to tuck us in, to cook for us, care for us, to mend our clothes or help us if we get hurt. Tink, get away."

"That's just awful, Peter," Wendy said quietly, but then wondered if it really was so awful. Her own father did not want her or her brothers. Her mother was too weak to protect them. They would all be sent into workhouses, she was sure of it. But this place where there were no parents, this could be an escape. To live without rules, without fear… Wendy could hardly contain the sudden excitement she felt building in her breast. She restrained herself, merely for a moment so Peter wouldn't think her bad-mannered, then commanded, "Peter, you must take me back with you. All of you need a mother!"

Peter's grin returned, brighter and more vibrant than before, even as he batted Tink away.

"Absolutely, let's go now!" he said, jumping up, grabbing her arm and hurtling towards the open window.

"Peter, wait!" Wendy gasped. She could not leave her brothers behind while she escaped, "Peter, my brothers should go with us. John and Michael, there in their beds."

Peter glanced over at them and wrinkled his nose, "Very well, if you wish," he said imperiously. Elated, Wendy ran to each bother, shaking them awake, telling them the exciting news. They woke up groggily and at first did not understand her, but when they saw Peter and the bright little Compass Fairy, the jumped up and made such a racket that Wendy had to hush them, certain Nana would hear.

"Peter, how do get to your home?" Wendy finally asked, once she had quieted her brothers. Peter's grin widened and he held out his solar surfer.

"Is it big enough for all four of us?" John asked, excitement stuttering his words. His fingers were already itching forward, dying to touch the device. Peter frowned and thought about that for a second.

"None of you have one of your own?" he asked.

"No, Father wouldn't allow it," John said sadly.

"Well, we'll have to make ourselves fit," Peter declared, and Michael and John cheered at the simplicity of the solution.

"Not so fast, we must pack before we go," Wendy said, preparing to take charge, "We need our coats, and food, and –"

"No you don't, silly!" Peter said, "Besides, there's no room for any of that anyways!"

"Well we have to at least put on our shoes," Wendy insisted. Peter shrugged, allowing that. The three children scurried to find and don their shoes, and when finished, ran to line up by the window.

Peter stepped up on the seat and reached out, pressing a button on his solar surfer so it unfolded into a sturdy board with a large sail that glimmered dimly in the moonlight. He hopped on, and motioned the others to join. Wendy sent John next, then Michael, and placed herself at the back so she could hold on to them and make sure they didn't fall.

"Everyone set?" Peter asked, looking around excitedly. They cheered.

"Alright, here we go! Tink, show us the way!"

The little bright light zoomed ahead, and Peter followed after it.

 _Flying_. It was like nothing Wendy had ever experienced. She had been on one of the great airships before, but that had been so smooth, so steady, it was like being on solid ground. _This_ was flying. Peter rode each gust of wind naturally, and the other children soon learned to mimic his movements, leaning into the sail and arching away from it by turns. Wendy knew she had never felt so alive as those moments when the wind jostled her, threatened to throw them about like a ragdoll, but the shifting of their bodies kept them on course.

They flew high above the city, then Peter, as a joke, sent them zipping down, just above the waterfall which cascaded from the floating island. The other three children screamed, and laughed alongside Peter when he righted them again.

Eventually they left the city far behind, and all that surrounded them was the velvety blackness of night and the pinprick stars. John and Michael began to grow tired, and it was all Wendy could do to stay awake and hold onto them.

A faint rose glow appeared on the horizon, and Wendy strained to see over Peter's head.

A small, mountainous island appeared, small from this distance. There was no city lighting the clouds above it, there were no airships anchored at bustling docks, and as they approached nearer and nearer there was no sound but the rushing of the wind.

Wendy had never felt happier in her entire life.


End file.
